Twelfth Night, Or What You Will

Maria. Nay, I prithee, put on this gown and this beard;
make him believe thou art Sir Topas the curate: do
it quickly; I'll call Sir Toby the whilst.

[Exit]

Feste. Well, I'll put it on, and I will dissemble myself
2025in't; and I would I were the first that ever
dissembled in such a gown. I am not tall enough to
become the function well, nor lean enough to be
thought a good student; but to be said an honest man
and a good housekeeper goes as fairly as to say a
2030careful man and a great scholar. The competitors enter.

Feste. Bonos dies, Sir Toby: for, as the old hermit of
Prague, that never saw pen and ink, very wittily
2035said to a niece of King Gorboduc, 'That that is is;'
so I, being Master Parson, am Master Parson; for,
what is 'that' but 'that,' and 'is' but 'is'?

Feste. Madman, thou errest: I say, there is no darkness
but ignorance; in which thou art more puzzled than
the Egyptians in their fog.

Malvolio. I say, this house is as dark as ignorance, though
2065ignorance were as dark as hell; and I say, there
was never man thus abused. I am no more mad than you
are: make the trial of it in any constant question.

Maria. Thou mightst have done this without thy beard and
2080gown: he sees thee not.

Sir Toby Belch. To him in thine own voice, and bring me word how
thou findest him: I would we were well rid of this
knavery. If he may be conveniently delivered, I
would he were, for I am now so far in offence with
2085my niece that I cannot pursue with any safety this
sport to the upshot. Come by and by to my chamber.

Feste. Nay, I'll ne'er believe a madman till I see his
brains. I will fetch you light and paper and ink.

Malvolio. Fool, I'll requite it in the highest degree: I
2135prithee, be gone.

Feste. [Singing]I am gone, sir,
And anon, sir,
I'll be with you again,
2140In a trice,
Like to the old Vice,
Your need to sustain;
Who, with dagger of lath,
In his rage and his wrath,
2145Cries, ah, ha! to the devil:
Like a mad lad,
Pare thy nails, dad;
Adieu, good man devil.